


The Wrong Balcony

by Taliax



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Identity Reveal, If I want my Mr. Ramier content I guess I gotta make it myself, Marichat, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Identity Reveal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post S3, Romance, only one bed... sort of, past adrigami mention, vague lukanette mention, very tame trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: While taking shelter from a rainstorm, Chat Noir and Marinette accidentally sleep over at Mr. Ramier's house.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Xavier Ramier, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain Cheng | Ladybug & Xavier Ramier
Comments: 175
Kudos: 1150





	1. The Right Balcony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpisuns (maryssaj)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryssaj/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Не тот балкон](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100380) by [trololonasty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trololonasty/pseuds/trololonasty)



> Merry Christmas!! I’m technically half an hour late, but it’s still Christmas for some of you, right?
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Chatnoirinette, who helped me work out several characterization details, misc. spoilery details, and is basically the biggest marichat stan I know and was excited enough about this fic to motivate me to write it lol
> 
> About a month post-S3, so spoilers for the finale and a few other episodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special ultra mega thanks to Brina and Maryssa for the art you'll see in this fic! Brina (@celerydays) is the artist and Maryssa (@chatnoirinette) commissioned it from her for me :D  
> Here's the link to the tumblr post of the art (contains spoilers for the fic): https://celerydays.tumblr.com/post/624293742887714816/commission-done-for-chatnoirinette-of-a-scene

_Can’t be much farther now…_ Adrien thought with each leap through the stinging rain. It matted his hair, slipped through the collar of his suit, sloshed inside his boots with each landing against slick shingles. _Come on…_

He shuddered and held Marinette tighter against his side before vaulting again. His muscles strained at each movement, even with the suit’s added strength. How long had that fight taken? Two hours? Three? It was impossible to tell; it had been dark all day thanks to the unfortunately-not-magical rainstorm. If only Ladybug’s Miraculous Cure could have blown the clouds away as easily as it cleared the akuma-caused fire and smoke.

“Hanging in there, Princess?” He asked, not slowing his stride. If he stopped now, he wasn’t sure he could convince his legs to move again.

Marinette’s only response was to shiver against him. Either she couldn’t hear over the pouring rain, or she didn’t approve of his halfhearted pun.

“We have to be close by now,” he muttered to himself. The akuma (and sentimonster— _man_ he hated those) attack had been by the Notre Dame, much too far from Marinette’s house. Normally it wouldn’t take so long to drop her off, but with all this rain, even his enhanced dark vision was failing him. Had he gotten turned around? Everything was _cold_ and _wet_ and he wanted to sleep for a year but he shouldn’t complain; Marinette was braving it all without a magical suit.

“Th-thank you, Chat.” Her teeth chattered. “But you should get yourself home. I c-can make it from here.”

“No way, Princess. I’m not leaving you in the middle of this.”

He didn’t understand why she’d been out in the middle of an akuma attack in the first place, much less one during a torrential downpour, on the wrong side of town. She’d said something about filling in for Alya, but there was no way she got any good footage of the fight with the akumatized ex-fireman and his sentimonster dragon. 

It had taken two lucky charms and one cataclysm to bring Firedman down. At least the rain had kept the fire from spreading, even if fighting the weather drained himself and his Lady. She’d looked ready to collapse nearly the whole fight. Even their fistbump at the end had lacked any kind of vigor.

But he couldn’t carry Ladybug home. Marinette, at least, he could help.

His friend had seemed on the brink of collapse earlier today, too. She never should’ve agreed to help Alya on a day like this. Adrien would have to have a word with her at school on Monday—Marinette already had so much on her plate, with Kitty Section, and her commissions, and regular schoolwork.

But worrying about that wouldn’t help him get Marinette home now. He needed to focus—plant his staff, push off the roof, fight against the wind— 

—Slip at the landing, crack his knee against the unforgiving balcony.

Marinette cried out as his grip failed, but she latched onto the balcony’s railing and remained upright, which is more than he could say for himself. He rolled head-over-heels, and everything was cold and spinning and _wet_ and _oww;_ he’d come to a stop with his head cracking against a… 

“Bird feeder?” He blinked up at the pole swaying overhead. It was hard to tell with no birds chirping on it—and with the rain still blinding his eyes. Would it kill Plagg to add goggles to his mask for times like this? It would probably look super cool, too—like some kind of Chat Aviator. 

“Chat? Are you okay?”

“Purrfectly fine, Princess.” He sat up and flashed a grin, hoping the downpour at least hid his blushing face. There went the last shreds of dignity he’d had as Chat Noir. Not that he needed it—he was already her friend as Adrien, but still, it was hard to fight the urge to impress her.

“No, you’re not. You’re exhausted.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, breath puffing out in clouds that the rain dashed to pieces. “I saw how long that fight was. You need to rest.”

He sneezed, sniffing and pouting afterwards. He _really_ did not need his body proving her point. Even if the fact that he could barely stand was already doing it. 

“I’ll rest when we get somewhere warm. And dry.”

He took her outstretched hand to get to his feet—but his knees buckled at the last minute, and his weight pulled her down with him. With a yelp, she landed starfish-like on top of his chest.

Despite his exhaustion—despite the fact that it was _still_ pouring on them, they may be lost, and were probably both going to end up with colds by the end of this—he laughed. Not a chuckle, but a full-out, unbridled laugh.

She pushed herself up to glare at him, but coming from her, it was about as threatening as Chloe’s teddy bear.

“Falling for me again?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She punched him in the arm, and he bit his cheek to keep from laughing. Maybe it was in poor taste to tease her about her old crush on him, but half the time she just dished it right back at him. Besides, he knew that if she liked anyone now, it was Luka, anyway.

“You’re the one who fell first,” she pointed out with a smirk that was so much like Ladybug’s, he had to stop and catch his breath.

Or maybe that was because one of her arms was still braced against his chest. You could never tell.

“Touché, Princess. Your humble court jester must keep up his act.”

She rolled her eyes, and he hoped he wasn’t just imagining the affection there.

“You’ll have to reschedule your jesting. We need to find a way down from here. Preferably without you landing on your face again.”

“Hey! I landed on my back, thank you very much.” He sat up and sneezed again. A cold shouldn’t come on this quickly, right? Even his luck couldn’t be _that_ bad. “You got any plans, Marinette?”

Her nose scrunched as she scanned the balcony and oh no, he should _not_ think of how much her expression resembled Ladybug trying to figure out her Lucky Charm. He blamed the time she’d been Multimouse. Ever since he’d seen her side-by-side with his Lady, it was impossible to ignore the resemblance. 

The light flashed behind him, making both him and Marinette jump. The window. It was just the light on in the apartment, because of course someone had heard them crash land, and—

The door slid open to reveal the last person Adrien expected. Well, the last person he expected might’ve been Hawkmoth himself. But Mr. Ramier wearing a sweater with little cartoon pigeons embroidered around the collar was a close second.

“Chat Noir? I haven’t been akumatized this time, I promise! My pigeons have been splendidly behaved,” he said before his head swiveled from Adrien to Marinette and back. “Um. Or do you have a different reason for visiting in the middle of this storm? I wasn’t aware you knew where I lived.”

“I don’t. Didn’t.” Adrien shook his head. They must be a sight to see, one of the heroes of Paris and a random civilian shivering on a third-story balcony. But then again, Mr. Ramier had surely seen weirder. This was Paris, after all. “Would you be opposed to letting a couple of stray cats out of the rain?”

“Of course! It’s the least I can do after all the trouble I cause you. Come in, come in, both of you.”

Adrien half expected Marinette to protest—she was so used to helping others, and it had been difficult enough to convince her to let him take her home. But the rain must have worn on her enough by now, because she stumbled in after him with a chattering “Th-thank you.”

_Warm._ That was the only thought Adrien could process as he stepped inside Mr. Ramier’s apartment. Warm and _dry_ and oops, he was probably dripping puddles on the carpet as he basked in the heat.

“Feel better, kitty?” Marinette giggled as he registered the purr rumbling in his chest.

“ _Much,”_ he answered honestly. “Thanks, Mr. Ramier. And, uh, sorry about the mess.”

“It’s no trouble at all! I’ll be right back with some towels for you two.”

Adrien gave a two-fingered salute in gratitude as the man fluttered off down the hall with a happy _rloo._

“Huh,” Marinette said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight between her feet. “He took that really well.”

Adrien shrugged. “Mr. Ramier’s a pretty chill guy. When he’s not akumatized into Mr. Pigeon, anyway. He buys me and Ladybug ice cream sometimes. Pretty lucky that we landed here of all places, don’t you—”

A sneeze cut off the rest of his sentence. Of course, Mr. Ramier’s living room _would_ be decorated with feathers. Feather pillows, feather trim on the lampshade—feathers in place of tassels on the rug, who even _did_ that?

“Maybe not so lucky for you, Chat.” Marinette stifled a laugh. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah.” He sniffed and dug in his pocket for the allergy meds he’d stashed there following Mr. Ramier’s fourteenth akumatization. “This cat’s used to making his own luck. When I don’t borrow my Lady’s, anyway.”

He winked, and—was Marinette turning red? She wasn’t getting sick from the cold, was she?

“Are you—?”

“Towels!” Mr. Ramier burst from the hallway before dropping an armful of fluffy fabric at their feet. “Dry off now, it wouldn’t do to have either of you catching a cold.”

Adrien sneezed again before dry-swallowing one of the allergy pills.

“I think it might be too late for that. Marinette’s looking a little red.” 

“I’m fine, Chat,” she deadpanned while swatting aside the hand he’d tried to check her temperature with. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Well you can rest now,” Mr. Ramier said brightly. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll heat up soup! Oh, happy day!”

He bustled off towards the kitchen, leaving Adrien and Marinette alone with the sound of rain beating against the door. 

“You’re taking this pretty well too,” he said, avoiding the rug as he plopped down to begin working his boots off. “I know you wanted to get home. Will it be a problem if we stay for soup?”

She hummed thoughtfully, then shook her head. “I don’t want you going back out in this if we can help it. Maybe it’ll clear up, and then we can head home without you getting hurt again.”

“Aw, is someone worried about me?” He grinned as he wrapped a blue towel around himself. Ahhhh. It might not absorb much of the water stuck under his suit, but it was warm, at least. Mr. Ramier must have pulled it out of the dryer.

“Someone has to. Who else is going to keep you out of trouble?”

“Says the one who was out recording the Akuma attack.” Honestly, he’d never taken Marinette for the danger-seeking one. She was usually well hidden during akuma fights—he hadn’t even seen her filming. Not that he could see much through all the rain and smoke today, but still.

“I—I owed Alya a favor, that’s all.” She spread a red towel beneath her before settling down next to him. “Will anyone else be worrying about you? If you don’t get back, I mean.”

Adrien drew the towel tighter around his shoulders, but kept up Chat’s grin. “I think they can stand to miss me a little longer.”

As if they’d miss him at all. His phone had probably long since stopped playing Chopin’s Berceuse Opus 57 from atop his piano, and Nathalie would assume he was asleep. Which was a good thing. Staying out this late would be much more difficult if her or Father actually cared.

_Don’t think like that. Nathalie cares, at least._

“Hey,” Marinette whispered, soft enough to slip through the seams of his suit. 

When he looked up, her eyes seemed to prying up his grin. No, he was just imagining that. Faking smiles was literally his dayjob.

Her lips parted as if to speak—but then she just grinned and tossed a towel over his head.

“Hey!” A surprised laugh bubbled from him, washing away the stab of melancholy. 

“You’re still soaked,” she said, as if that was the real reason she’d draped the cloth over him, and— 

Oh. _Oh._ He had to clench his stomach to keep the purr from rumbling out. She was just drying his hair, but no one ever played with his hair so gently, so different from the stylists who brushed and gelled and tugged— 

“Chat? I—sorry, I should’ve asked—”

He only unfroze after her hands had left his hair. Too slow. 

“It’s okay, Princess. This cat just isn’t used to getting pats,” he said as smoothly as he could manage. Which should’ve been easy; he was _Chat Noir;_ he was puns and easy flirting and he did _not_ melt over a single soft touch. 

(Unless it was from his Lady. But that went without saying.)

“...It felt pretty _mice_ though,” he finished with a grin and internal fist-pump. _Nailed it!_

She blinked before dropping her face into her palm. “Nope. For that, your pat privileges are cancelled.”

“Mari _neeeeeettttte,”_ he practically whined. Okay, so maybe he’d melted a little—he blamed Plagg; it wasn’t like Marinette playing with his hair would have such a strong effect outside of the suit. Even if it would surely feel amazing to have her fingers tousle the carefully-placed gel, brush his bangs away from his face, scratch behind his real ears— 

_Get a grip, Agreste! You’re not a cat, you’re a boy…_ a lonely boy who might just be desperate for any physical contact that wasn’t Chloé glomping him or an akuma blasting him into a wall. That was all.

“Needy kitty,” she laughed before resuming the soothing act of drying his hair. “I’m still wet too, you know.”

Oh. Right. He pulled back, fighting the instinct to nuzzle into her hands. (He would be having Words with Plagg about that later.)

“Fine,” he pretended to huff, “but I expect double pats later to make up for it.”

“Double of nothing is still nothing, Chat,” she teased, booping his nose before reaching up to pick the hairties from her pigtails.

He brushed his claws over his nose. When had Marinette gotten so comfortable around Chat? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was actually flirting with him. But she never acted like this around Luka—or anyone else he knew, for that matter. Huh. Well, he wasn’t going to complain.

“You wound me, Princess.” He leaned back on one hand, the other splayed dramatically over his chest. “After all we’ve been through together, I don’t even get a single pat? _Cruel.”_

She laughed at him. “If I’m a Princess, you’re a Drama Queen.”

He tapped his chin, brow furrowing. “Wait, does that make me your mom? Because that’s a little weird.”

“Okay, well now that you _said_ it it’s weird.”

She might have said something else after that, but at that moment her hair finally came free of its ties, and all coherent thought came to a screeching halt. It didn’t matter that her hair was soaked and matted; the air left his lungs just like that day when she and Kagami had ditched the Bourgeois's anniversary party with him.

If that was how he reacted to Marinette with her hair down, he could only hope that Ladybug never took out her pigtails. His body might disintegrate like a broken akumatized object.

“Chat?” Marinette tilted her head, her fingers pausing as they combed through her hair. “I was just teasing, you know. Can you dish it but not take it?”

He swallowed and pushed aside the wish that it was _his_ fingers in her hair. That wasn’t a normal reaction to a friend, was it? Maybe Plagg could tell him if it was some kind of cat tendency. Cats groomed each other, right? 

Luckily, Mr. Ramier’s appearance saved him from that derailing train of thought.

“Soup is ready!” He called, poking his head out from the hallway. “I hope you like carrots and ginger.”

“I’ll eat anything,” Adrien said with a grin. 

Marinette snorted. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

He stuck his tongue out at her before following Mr. Ramier.

The kitchen was less feather-filled than the living room, at least. The pigeon decor was limited to framed watercolors adorning the walls, while the hand towels had little pictures of cartoon rats on them. Three steaming bowls were set around the small wooden table; Adrien could smell the ginger and spices from here.

“Thanks again, Mr. Ramier,” he told him.

“Is there anything we can do to repay you?” Marinette said as they sat.

“No, no! It’s a pleasure to have Chat Noir and his girlfriend over for dinner.”

The spoon that had been halfway to Adrien’s mouth plopped loudly back into his bowl. His eyes flickered to Marinette’s, only to find her staring back at him, her face flushed red.

“You thought I was—!?”

“What—?”

“We’re not—”

“Marinette’s amazing and all—”

“Chat’s such a dork—”

“She’s just a friend!” Adrien blurted at the same time Marinette said “He’s not my boyfriend!”

If Plagg wasn’t keeping him transformed, he’d be cackling right now. Adrien had a feeling he’d be in for a long round of teasing tonight.

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have presumed,” Mr. Ramier said, recovering from being shouted at. “A few weeks ago Chat Noir told me that he had his eye on someone, and you two seemed so comfortable around each other. But I’m much better at understanding pigeons than people, I suppose.”

Adrien made some noise that might have been a laugh, if it had been fed through a cheese grater.

“I didn’t—I don’t—you know what? I’m going to eat this soup.”

He shoved the spoon back into his mouth, barely managing not to choke. Not because the soup was bad; it was delicious—warm and creamy with rice and just enough Asian spice—but because _why did Mr. Ramier have to remember that conversation?_ Adrien had been talking about _Kagami,_ Kagami who wanted to date _him_ until they’d tried and realized that they both felt better as friends. But Mr. Ramier didn’t know that. The last time they’d shared post-akuma ice cream, Adrien had still been trying to decide if he could separate his heart from Ladybug. 

(He couldn’t. Kagami had probably realized that, deep down. At least she’d stayed his friend after they broke up.)

The point was, Mr. Ramier had no idea that Chat was single. And he really didn’t want to admit how badly he’d fumbled his last relationship in front of Marinette. He’d already embarrassed himself enough.

The clinking of spoons and occasional chewing were the only reprieve from the awkward silence. But Adrien could handle that; he spent most meals in silence anyway, and the rare dinner with his father was way more tense than this. Even if Father wouldn’t even think to ask about his love life.

“So, um… this soup is really good,” Marinette finally spoke up, to Adrien’s relief. “Do you cook a lot?”

“You like it?” Mr. Ramier straightened. “And yes, or… I used to. With my old friend Ms. Lenoir. She’s actually the one who shared this recipe, but...” 

The light drained out of him. His spoon stirred his soup listlessly. 

“She moved last month. Reconnected with her first love and was just… gone.”

No wonder Mr Ramier had looked so happy to have company. If anyone could understand the pain of lonely meals, it was Adrien.

“Just like that? Without even saying goodbye?” He asked.

The downcast look on Mr. Ramier’s face struck him straight to the heart. “She left a note at our usual bench. It was better than nothing, I suppose.”

What kind of friend would do that? Friendships were too precious to waste so carelessly. Even if Ladybug ever did return his feelings, he couldn’t imagine leaving Nino, or Kagami, or Marinette.

“Ms. Lenoir? Marianne Lenoir?” Marinette’s eyes widened.

“Yes—wait, you knew her?” Mr. Ramier asked.

Her eyes flickered to Adrien, for some inexplicable reason, before she gave a shallow nod. “Not well. But I do know—I’m sure she didn’t mean to leave so quickly. Sometimes people don’t have a choice, even when… even when you still need them,” she finished in a quavering whisper.

A pang shot through Adrien’s heart. Had someone left Marinette, too? He wanted to take whoever made her sound that heartbroken and drag them back to Paris. 

“I’m sure you’re right, miss…”

“Marinette,” she introduced herself, sniffing even as she smiled. “Sorry. I forgot we haven’t met.”

“Mr. Ramier. But you’ve probably, erm, heard of me. Thank you for your kind words, miss Marinette.”

Adrien finished off his soup while the two chatted about their mutual friend. Or, well, Mr. Ramier’s friend and Marinette’s acquaintance. They didn’t seem close enough for Ms. Lenoir to be the person Marinette missed. But he couldn’t think of anyone else who’d moved away, either. Unless it was someone who was still here, but had been more distant lately? Everyone at school seemed to have moved past the expulsion incident with Lila, and Adrien was busy keeping her at bay… hmm… were Marinette and Luka growing apart? He couldn’t recall her talking about Kitty Section as much lately, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Besides, Luka would have to be stupid to hurt Marinette like that. She deserved someone who would always have her back, especially if she was feeling lonely or down.

“Chat Noir?” 

He startled at Mr. Ramier’s voice and nearly flipped his bowl. Marinette giggled behind her hand—well, even if she didn’t like his jokes, at least he could make her laugh in other ways.

“Mr. Ramier was just asking if you wanted to watch a movie. Since it’s still storming outside, and I don’t think it’s going to let up anytime soon…”

He glanced out the window with a wince. The rain dashing against the glass sounded even louder, and an ominous rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. They _definitely_ couldn’t leave now. His baton would end up being a lightningrod.

“Sounds _purr_ fect to me.”

He followed Mr. Ramier to pick a movie, since Marinette said she needed to text her parents now that she’d be staying even longer. He wondered what she was going to tell them—he doubted they’d be thrilled about her staying in a stranger’s apartment, even if Mr. Ramier was the least threatening man in all of Paris, akumatized or not.

It must have gone fine though, because it wasn’t long before she was plopping on the couch next to him.

“Ratatouille?” She asked with a quirked eyebrow. “What, does Mr. Ramier not have Aristocats?”

“I thought you’d be all for it, Mousinette.” He winked. “Besides, I can like more than one animal, you know.”

As could Mr. Ramier, apparently. His face had lit up so much when Adrien flipped past Ratatouille in his movie collection that Adrien couldn’t help but pick it. Besides, what wasn’t to love about a young rat defying his father and living his culinary dreams?

“Shh, it’s starting!” Mr. Ramier patted his arm from his other side when the previews ended.

Marinette giggled before going silent, though she still snuck glances at him whenever Mr. Ramier had a particularly vibrant reaction. (Which was often. Maybe Adrien shouldn’t have agreed to this movie; Mr. Ramier was sensitive enough about his pigeons to become akumatized, and his gasps at how the humans treated the rats were a bit too real.)

But while Remy and Linguini practiced making omelettes, Marinette’s snorts faded, her eyes lidded, and… her head lolled onto his shoulder. He smiled as her still-damp hair brushed his jaw. He’d miss her facial expression commentary, but she of all people deserved the rest.

He shifted his arm and rested his cheek against the side of her head, remembering the time she’d fallen asleep against him on the short-lived field trip. It was nice to know Marinette felt comfortable enough to use him as a pillow on either side of the mask—or maybe she could just fall asleep anywhere.

She was a deep sleeper, too. That was the only explanation he had for the way she snuggled against his side while Linguini babbled about “rat patootie.” Adrien was tempted to sneak his baton from behind his back to snap a candid picture, but didn’t want to risk waking her.

She snored softly while Remy found Gusteau’s letter, and while the rat dramatically said _change is nature,_ and while Linguini roller skated in his brand new restaurant. 

It was only once the credits were rolling that Mr. Ramier noticed, at least. He chuckled as he took in the drool hanging from Marinette’s mouth.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you two would make a lovely couple. If you do decide to stop pursuing Ladybug.”

Adrien jolted, making Marinette mumble in her sleep. Her eyes remained safely closed, though. 

“Thanks, but Marinette and I… we aren’t like that. She’s...” he trailed off, his gaze never leaving her face. Pinprick freckles dusted her nose. How had he never noticed that before?

“...Just a friend,” he finished, though the words felt off, this time. She _was_ his friend, but there was nothing _just_ about her.

“I’m glad you have such a good friend, then. Friendships are some of life’s greatest treasures. Whether between human and pigeon, human and rat, cat and bug—”

“I get it.” Adrien chuckled. “I do treasure Marinette’s friendship. She means so much to me… I just want her to be happy.”

He brushed loose strands of hair away from her face and smiled at the soft curve of her lips. 

Mr. Ramier gave a knowing smile. “I may be going out on a limb here, but I think she already is.”

The man offered a blanket—thankfully devoid of pigeon feathers—and at Adrien’s nod, he draped it over Marinette.

“Rest as long as you need. I must be getting to bed myself, but you’re welcome to anything in the refrigerator too.”

“Has anyone told you you’re the best?” Adrien grinned. Honestly, the next time he needed to escape his house, he might come here. An open kitchen, free couch, and friendly company was worth burning through his allergy medicine.

Mr. Ramier’s cheeks pinked. “Not normally, no.”

“Well, they should. You’re pretty _paw_ some to me.”

A little laugh escaped him as he pulled at the ends of his sweater sleeves. “Thank you, Chat Noir. Be safe.”

“We will.”

Mr. Ramier clicked off the TV before leaving the room, leaving Adrien with only the streetlamps out the window below for illumination. Between the darkness, the soothing rumbles of thunder, and Marinette cuddled up against his side, he found his own eyelids drooping. Would it be so bad if he took a quick catnap too? He’d need plenty of energy to get Marinette home later…

...

A sneeze jolted him awake. When had he ended up lying on a feather pillow? And why did his eyes feel crusted shut…?

He tried to sit up, only to realize something was sprawled on top of him. No, _someone._

Consciousness slammed back into him. Marinette had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and he must have somehow fallen asleep too—for a while, judging by the now-softer patter of rain against the window. 

But he hadn’t meant to get tangled up like _this._ One of her arms dangled off the couch, while the other held him tight around the waist. It was probably the only thing that had kept her from falling off in her sleep. Well, that and his tail that had snaked around her leg.

_Bad,_ he scolded it, trying to find some way to separate them without waking her. The last thing he wanted was for her to be embarrassed around him, and she’d probably panic if she found herself like _this_ with him of all people. 

He was just trying to pull away (as best he could on the small couch) when she nuzzled farther into his neck.

“Mmm… Adrien…”

He froze at her mumble. He—he’d just imagined that, right? There was no way she’d figured out who he was. She was one of the most clever people he knew, but he’d done nothing to give himself away. Right? 

But why else would she be saying his name in her sleep?

“Dreaming of me?” He teased, mostly to keep himself from panicking. This was Marinette. She’d been Multimouse and never breathed a word of it to anyone but him. Even Miracle Queen hadn’t gotten to her. If anyone other than Ladybug had to know his identity, Marinette would be the one he trusted most.

“Hmm… mmmaybe,” she slurred.

“Good dreams?” He couldn’t help grinning. She wasn’t freaking out. Maybe she really _was_ just dreaming.

“Always.”

She shifted again, so her back was facing him, his chin slotted into the space over her shoulder. His heart thumped faster than should be strictly necessary. 

“You were my kitty,” she mumbled. “M’partner… isn’t that silly…?”

“Your partner?” He blurted before he could stop himself. Had Marinette dreamed of replacing Ladybug? 

“Shh. Pillows don’t talk, Adrien.”

...Maybe _he_ was the one who was dreaming. He highly doubted she would be hugging him so unashamedly if she actually knew who he was.

_Dreaming, huh…_

Well, on the off chance she could hear him, it would be best not to show that her delirious words could be true.

“So I’m Adrien, huh?” He whispered. “And Chat Noir? That _is_ pretty silly.”

“Hmm… you can’t fool me. You… smell the same…”

His eyes widened. Of all the ways for his identity to be revealed, it had to be because of his _smell?_ Plagg was going to have to cut back on the Camembert. For his own safety.

“Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous,” he jokingly quoted Chloe. “Chat Noir smells _way_ better than Adrien Agreste.”

“Psh. No one smells better than Adrien… the fragrance… Radiant... carefree… _dreamy…”_

He bit back a groan. Even in her sleep she could tease him about that commercial. That cologne didn’t even smell that good. He wouldn’t wear it even to mask the smell of cheese.

“Do I actually smell good?” He wondered, tilting his head to try and sniff his arm, but all he got was a nose full of Marinette. Which at the moment was mostly rain and sweat, but just a little bit of cookies and chocolate. Familiarity and the feeling of being _safe_ swept over him. 

That was… that was something.

“Mmm. Like cheese. And roses. Leather… covers it up.” Her nose scrunched. “But I’m _smart._ I’m… I’m…”

“Marinette?” He supplied as she slipped deeper into unconsciousness.

“No, silly.” She giggled. “I’m Ladybug.”

His throat went dry. His hand froze in her hair—when had he started combing his fingers through it? 

“No, you’re not,” he reminded her—and himself—gently. “You’re Multimouse, remember?”

She seemed to find this even funnier. Was she waking up? Teasing him? She knew he was in love with Ladybug. Was this payback for his jokes about her crush on him?

“Can I tell you a,” she yawned, “a, a _secret?”_

“You’re asleep, Princess. You don’t really want to tell me a secret.”

He should wake her up. If she said something embarrassing, she’d probably never be comfortable around him again.

“Psh. Sleep. I’m Ladybug… _and_ Multimouse… no time to sleep…” Her brow furrowed. “Tikki… why did you let me fall asleep…?”

Adrien’s heart stopped. All other senses shut down, diverting all attention to every point of contact between them.

Because only he and Ladybug knew her kwami’s name. 

Because Marinette was Ladybug.

Because _Marinette was Ladybug_ and _Ladybug was pressed against his chest._

Holy crap, _Ladybug said he smelled good!_

...Admittedly that wasn’t the most important detail at the moment, but focusing on that prevented him from worrying about just how _pissed_ she would be when she realized what she’d said.

Because Ladybug didn’t want to reveal her identity. Because she was stressed enough as it was, being a brand new Guardian, fighting akumas _and_ sentimonsters—going to school and being class president and designing for her friends and was Marinette—Ladybug—(Maribug?)—even _human?_

She was. He’d seen her crack just enough to reveal that.

“Sleep as long as you want, Ladybug,” he whispered. “You’re not alone. I’m not leaving you.”

She shifted once more before something soft brushed the sliver of skin above his collar. 

Heat spread through him. Had she—had she just—

She’d kissed his neck. _Marinette_ had kissed his neck.

“Me ‘n you… ‘gainst the world.”

And then she was back to snoring softly, every breath fanning across his chest and sending shivers down his spine. He might burst into flame if he stayed like this, held by his Lady like a giant purring teddy bear.

He might not survive if she let him go, either.

One thing was sure. There was no _way_ he was falling back asleep.

…

“Ohmygosh,” Marinette’s voice snapped him awake. 

So much for not falling asleep, apparently. He’d turned so that she was the big spoon as they slept, so he couldn’t see the panicked look she must be giving him as she scrambled to put space between them.

Aaaand so much for not freaking her out.

“ _Breathe_ , Marinette. Don’t panic,” she said through quick breaths. “You just… fell asleep with Chat Noir. Friends fall asleep on each other all the time. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

She did not sound fine. Adrien doubted that alerting her to the fact he was awake would make her any more fine. 

Besides, he wasn’t sure he could speak without blurting _“I love you.”_

(Yeah, Plagg was _never_ going to let him live this down.)

But then Marinette was _laughing,_ and it didn't sound completely hysterical.

“He let me fall asleep on him… you’re really too good to me, kitty,” she whispered, scratching behind his leather ears.

A purr burst from him before he could stop it. Marinette’s hand froze.

“...Chat?”

Thankfully from this angle, she couldn’t see the bright flush on his face. 

_Don’t say I love you, don’t say I love you, don’t say I love you—_

“Yeah?” He squeaked out. _Whew._

“Oh. You’re awake.”

The awkwardness slammed back into place like a wall between them.

“Er, yeah.” He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. Making eye contact was out of the question. Ladybug’s eyes in Marinette’s face were sure to incinerate him on the spot.

“Um…”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically, though he could hardly admit to what he was sorry for. Would she forgive him for uncovering her identity, even if she was the one to tell him?

“No, I fell asleep on you first. It’s not your fault.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her hands fidgeting with the blanket that had been tangled around them. “The rain’s calmed down, hasn’t it?”

He snuck a glance towards the window. It was still dark—probably the middle of the night or early morning; he was lucky she’d woken him before they spent the _whole_ night at Mr. Ramier’s—but from the sound of it, the rain was just a light drizzle now. Nothing was stopping him from taking her home.

Nothing was stopping her from swinging _herself_ home either. Oh, he’d thought he’d made a fool of himself before—but that whole time, he’d been carrying _Ladybug!_

A giant sneeze distracted him from that thought. His meds must have worn off while they slept—he could feel more itching in his nose coming on, and he really didn’t want to fight his feelings and allergies at the same time.

“Guess it has. Ready to go before I sneeze so loud I wake the building?” 

He forced a smile that was too bright and not bright enough. He was _so close_ to his Lady, and she was so close to knowing _him,_ but he had no idea how much she remembered. If anything. Had only her subconscious made the connection between Chat Noir and Adrien? Or did she really know, and she just pretended not to?

Secret identities be danged; his heart couldn’t take this kind of uncertainty.

Somehow while circling through all these thoughts, he’d managed to follow her out onto Mr. Ramier’s balcony. Weird to think that when they’d crashed here only a few hours ago, he’d had no idea she was his partner. Everything was different now, maybe even scary—but it also felt _right._

No wonder bantering with Marinette as Chat always felt so natural. It had been her all along.

Ladybug. His partner. Even if she was upset, she wouldn’t take away his miraculous over an accident like this. It was the two of them against the world.

So he took a deep breath, and said, “Marinette.”

“Is… something wrong?” She spun to face him. “It’s because I fell asleep with you, isn’t it? I’m sorry too—I mean, you probably think I’m super weird, even passing out on you in the first place—”

“It’s not weird at all,” he whispered, finally allowing himself to gaze at her with all the adoration he felt for both Marinette and Ladybug, his friend and his partner, all rolled into one.

She froze. Tiny raindrops trailed down her red cheeks. 

“You don’t have to lie, you know. It _was_ weird, and—and I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

He had to laugh. _She_ was the one worried about making things awkward? It was taking all of his self control not to scoop her into his arms right now.

“You’re never awkward to me, Bugaboo.”

Maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way of breaking the news. Her face paled, her freckles standing out starkly in his night vision. Her blinks came rapidly, and he could only hope that no tears were mixing with the rain beneath her eyes.

“You—there’s no way— _how?”_

“You talk in your sleep.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck as she braced herself against the railing. Her lips fluttered, but no sound came out. She was definitely panicking now, and—what could he do? It was his fault; she wouldn’t want him to comfort her now.

He could kiss any dreams he had of snuggling and neck kisses goodbye.

She finally groaned, sliding down the metal bars to sit on the soaked balcony. “I’m such an idiot. I never should have…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly as he planted himself beside her. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me. I should have woken you up.”

“No, you couldn’t have known—I should never have fallen asleep in the first place, or—I _knew_ it was dangerous to get close to you out of the suit, but—I was just so, so—”

She burst into tears. It was as sudden as thunder, as shocking and painful as lightning. She was _Ladybug,_ and he had seen her face terrifying akumas without crying. Why was him knowing her identity so much worse?

“I’m sorry,” he said while holding her as tightly as he dared. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

To his surprise, she actually leaned in closer, her ear resting above his pounding heart. 

“Shh, kitty, it’s n-not your fault.” She shook. “I’m—I’m glad you’re here. I was just so—so _tired.”_

“I know. That’s why I didn’t want to wake you.” But apparently even that was a mistake.

She shook her head with a strained laugh. “No, I mean—I’m tired of all _this._ Fighting akumas, hiding our identities, lying all the time—not being able to talk to anyone, especially with Master F-Fu gone…”

It all clicked into place. “That’s who left you. When you were talking to Mr. Ramier.”

“You noticed?” A laugh and sob mixed together. “Of course you did. I’m a mess, _chaton._ How am I supposed to be the Guardian _and_ Ladybug _and_ Marinette? There’s just—I can’t do this alone.”

“Marinette, you’re _not_ alone.” He separated just far enough to squeeze her trembling hands. He’d said it while she was sleeping, and he’d say it again, and again, and a thousand times—as many as it took for her to believe it. “Master Fu may be gone, but you’re not alone. No matter what—I’m here for you. Inside the suit and out.”

Inside and out. And he’d prove it—when she was ready, he’d drop his transformation. He’d do it now if he wasn’t afraid she’d have an even bigger heart attack.

She sniffed before offering him a smile that went straight to his rapidly beating heart.

“You and me against the world, huh?” 

Slowly, so that she had plenty of time to stop him if she desired, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“Always, My Lady.”

Just when he thought he couldn’t fall in love with her any harder, she smirked. Then lifted the opposite hand she held, and kissed each one of his knuckles in turn.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	2. The Right Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month after Chat Noir learns Marinette's identity, they're just vibin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t expect to write a sequel chapter to this but here we are haha. Special thanks to Maryssa for requesting it!
> 
> I don’t know if I specified in the first chapter, but I like to headcanon each season taking about a year (ignoring the episode Felix). Anyway, you’ll see a few references to that reflected here, and my interpretation is that they’re 17 right now.

Marinette glanced over her shoulder for what had to have been the thirtieth time. Outside her bedroom window, stormclouds were gathering over the glittering skyline. What if the weather was too dangerous for Chat to come visit tonight? Or what if he’d gotten held up with something in his civilian life? That happened too often, though he probably spent every moment he could with her now. It was oddly comforting that he wanted to be around her so much, even if it was just keeping her company while she worked on homework, or deciphered the grimoire, or let the kwamis out for some fresh air.

Despite seeing him practically every day, she still managed to miss him.

“He’ll be here,” Tikki said from her perch on top of Marinette’s mannequin. 

She sighed. “That obvious, huh?”

“You almost pinned the collar to my leg.”

Oops. As it was, the she’d bunched up the collar of Juleka’s dress all wrong. She’d have to remove the pins and smooth it out again unless she wanted the fabric to pucker in her sewing machine.

“Sorry Tikki. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

She’d survived with only seeing her partner during akuma attacks and patrols for two years now. But in these few weeks since she’d accidentally revealed her identity, she’d come to rely on him more than ever. Maybe too much, honestly. She had no idea what civilian responsibilities he was carrying on his own.

Well, she had a guess, but that was better left unsaid until she knew for sure.

 _You could always ask him,_ she thought for the thousandth time, but banished it just as quickly. 

A tap at her window made her jump and prick her finger. Even startled as she was, guilty relief flooded her. Tikki was right; he’d shown up anyway.

She sucked on the sore spot as she ran to open the window. “You know Papa would let you in the front door.”

“But then I’d miss getting to see you in your natural habitat, Bugaboo.” Chat Noir grinned as he swung himself in. Luckily it hadn’t started raining yet. She didn’t want her room smelling like wet cat.

“My ‘natural habitat’ has too many pins on the floor.” She scrambled to pick them up before he ended up stepping on one. His boots would have protected his feet, but he was polite enough to remove them every time he entered, even though she’d never asked him to.

At least, she’d never asked _Chat._ That was one of her flimsier evidences for his identity, though.

“I like it. It’s cozy.” He plopped down on her chaise, which he’d claimed for himself weeks ago. Not that she minded. She kept that space clear for him, even when fabric and thread was piled on every other surface.

“What about your room? Is it this ‘cozy’?” She asked. It was an innocent question, not overtly fishing for information on his identity. 

“Nah. I’m not allowed to… I have to keep things tidy.” He frowned.

Another piece towards her theory. She’d add that note in the conspiracy page she’d webbed out in her diary.

“Oh! I’ve got something for you!” He untied a plastic bag that he’d hung from his belt. “It, um, might be a little bit squished, but hopefully it’ll still taste good.”

Her eyes widened at the small box of cupcakes he presented to her. The frosting was pale pink, with wobbly dots of chocolate arranged to look like the spots on her yo-yo. They were a _little_ smushed, but still in remarkably good shape for having traveled with Chat across Paris. She popped off the box’s translucent lid, giggling at the tiny pigeon stickers at each corner of it.

He winced. “They look terrible, don’t they? I know I’m not as good at baking as you, but Mr. Ramier helped so I thought they might be kind of okay—”

“They’re perfect.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “You didn’t have to make me anything, Kitty.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Since you’re always sharing your delicious pastries with me—”

“Maman and Papa make most of those.”

“—and because you deserve something nice, and you refuse to let me buy you anything.”

Her face warmed. Before she’d put that rule into place, he’d tried to bring her a present every time he visited. Considering he visited a _lot,_ that would have taken a toll on his wallet.

Unless money wasn’t an issue for him, of course.

 _Stop that,_ she told herself. She could hardly deny her feelings for Chat anymore, but she couldn’t keep muddling them with feelings for her first crush. Not until she knew for sure they were one and the same.

Now if only she could stop being a coward and ask him.

“W-well thanks,” she said quickly. “You better help me eat them.”

He winked. “Can do, Princess.”

Before they dug in, she bundled her fabric away and pulled out the Miracle Box from its hiding place next to her sewing machine. It was the perfect spot, now that she’d learned how disguise it as an extra sewing box rather than that Ladybug-themed egg-thing. She’d _never_ have been able to keep that a secret.

“Who’s coming out today?” Chat asked. He’d sprawled on the chaise with his hands propping up his chin. Tikki had nestled herself in his hair, eating half of a cupcake and scattering crumbs in his golden locks. 

The kwami would probably enjoy Chat Noir’s visits more if Plagg was allowed out for her to play with. Plagg would devour all of her parents’ cheese-filled pastries, and Marinette… Marinette would have to look into her partner’s unmasked eyes and admit she was still half in love with someone else.

Unless she wasn’t. But what if she _was?_ A few hardly-lucid dreams and wishful evidence weren’t proof that Chat Noir was actually Adrien.

She shook her head. That train of thought could do donuts in her brain if she didn’t pull the brakes.

“I was thinking Kaalki and Pollen.” She wasn’t up for any of the rowdier kwamis tonight, even with Chat helping her “babysit.” Plus the two of them liked sweets; they’d appreciate the cupcakes.

She pulled out the hair comb and glasses, and Chat Noir excitedly put them both on. The miraculouses somehow managed to make him look both dorkier _and_ cuter at the same time. Maybe that was just because he was at his cutest when he was being a dork.

Tikki smiled wide as Kaalki and Pollen appeared in flashes of light.

“Oooh, someone glorious _and_ famous.” Kaalki flew in circles around Chat Noir’s head, nudging a few of his tufts of hair with her hoof. “You would make a fine holder. Plagg wouldn’t be up for a trade, would he?”

Chat blushed beneath his mask, making Marinette giggle.

“Uh, sorry, but I’m going to have to say _neigh_ to that.”

Pollen covered her laugh in her hands. Kaalki just _harumphed._

“Fine. Your sense of humor is far too unpolished anyway.”

 _Glorious and famous._ Kaalki might have been talking about his status as a hero of Paris, but Marinette still made note.

They fell into their usual routine, Chat Noir entertaining the kwamis by answering their questions about the world while Marinette went back to work. The steady conversation was a better backdrop than any white noise or instrumental music playlists. She only wished she had time to join them. Unfortunately, she’d put off this dress for too long. She only had a week before Juleka was supposed to model the floral sundress at the school’s amateur fashion show, and who knew how many akumas would strike between now and then?

Marinette was just getting ready to transfer the fabric from the mannequin to her sewing desk when she heard Pollen ask Chat, “How are things between you and your Princess?”

The pins slipped from her hand. She barely noticed a couple pricking into her slipper.

Chat had sat up straight since the last time she’d glanced back, and the nervous yet hopeful smile on his face threatened to melt her.

“Uh—well—how _are_ things between us, Marinette?”

Her mouth briefly forgot how to make words. She knew what Pollen meant; Tikki and her gossiped about Marinette’s love life all the time. Maybe she _shouldn’t_ have let the bee kwami out tonight.

“Well, um.” Her fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of her pajama pants. _Say something, Marinette!_ “We’re—we’re best friends, right?”

She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth. How many times had she died inside over Adrien calling her _just a friend?_ And no matter who Chat was beneath the mask, she didn't want to obscure her true feelings for him.

But his face still lit up even brighter. “I’m your best friend?”

“Of course, Kitty.” She sat on the chaise, scooting close to him. Probably closer than even a best friend should, but it wasn’t like Chat was shy about personal space. “I don’t let just anyone climb in my window, you know.”

“Awwww,” Pollen sighed while crossing her hands over her heart. Tikki gave Marinette a knowing look, which she pretended to ignore.

Then Marinette shoved a cupcake into her mouth before she could say anything more incriminating.

Chat blinked. She wondered if he was impressed—that cupcake had been about the size of her fist. Guess she could’ve fit her fist in her mouth after all, but at least the cupcake tasted better.

“Thesh ah really goo’.” 

...Well, she said she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. She’d never ruled out saying anything stupid.

Chat Noir laughed. “For a Princess, your table manners could use some work.”

She swallowed about half the cupcake. It _was_ really good, thick and chocolatey with a hint of strawberry. It probably would’ve tasted better if she’d taken the time to savor it. But the loss was worth it for the look on his face.

“No table manners allowed. Only vibes.”

He blinked before bursting out a _real_ laugh, fuller and brighter than the one before. One that sounded strikingly familiar—especially with the backdrop of rain hitting the window behind them.

That truth cracked like a flash of lightning.

“You’ve been hanging out with Nino too much.” He wiped a claw under his eye, flicking away a few drops of water.

It was him. It _had_ to be him. She’d recognize that laugh anywhere.

“Princess, what’s a ‘vibe’?” Pollen asked.

“I believe it’s like a, like a _feeling,”_ Kaalki answered over the sound of Chat’s cackle. “Perhaps there’s a kwami of vibes? Or would that fall under Duusu’s domain?”

Marinette was too stunned from the whiplash of Adrien’s laugh and Pollen’s question to actually answer.

“Sort of,” Tikki interjected instead. “Marinette and her friends sometimes talk about vibes like they’re feelings, but they also use ‘vibing’ as an action. I’m still not really sure what that means though. Maybe we should Google it?”

When she sat on Marinette’s computer keyboard, the desktop collage of Adrien’s photos flashed on the screen. Marinette almost lunged for her kwami in horror, but Chat was still laughing too hard to notice.

“Princess—what’s a—what’s a _vibe?”_ He got out between tears.

Then he actually doubled over far enough that he toppled off the chaise—which made _Marinette_ laugh so hard she choked on her remaining cupcake. 

_Adrien_ was dressed in a catsuit, literally rolling on the floor laughing. That was more hilarious than even the kwamis trying to understand teenage slang.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” Tikki hovered up to her face, her blue eyes filling Marinette’s vision.

She giggled again, coughing out crumbs stuck in the back of her throat.

“I’m—I’m straight up _vibing!”_

With that, she too rolled off the chaise and fell on top of Chat. He yelped before giggling again, wrapping his arms around her.

“Spare vibes, Princess? Spare vibes for a poor vibeless kitty?”

“Ack!” She flailed as he tickled her sides. “Nooo, stop! You’re stealing all the vibes!” 

“Were vibes in the cupcakes?” Pollen whispered to Kaalki, prompting another giggling fit from both Marinette and Chat Noir.

“Maybe it’s a secret,” Kaalki replied. “Like a code. For when the two of them want to do… whatever this is.” She waved a hoof towards where they were tangled together.

It was only then that Marinette realized what this would look like. And the fact that the floor wasn’t that thick, and her parents might hear something any minute.

Not to mention the fact that _Adrien_ was tickling her.

“I, um, need some air!” She burst, scrambling off from his chest.

“Huh? Wait, Marinette!” 

He reached out a hand, but she’d already bolted up her ladder and shoved open her skylight.

Which, of course, let rain dump right into her bed. Oops.

“What _was_ in those cupcakes?” She mumbled, climbing onto her balcony shutting the skylight behind her. 

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat there. The rain wasn’t doing a quick enough job of it, even though the spring shower chilled the rest of her to the bone. Had she flushed her last brain cell down the toilet? What was she _thinking?_

Of course, she was stupid with Chat Noir all the time. They’d challenged each other to handstand contests, dared each other to eat spicy peppers, even one-upped each other’s Hawkmoth impersonations. Chat might be Adrien, but that meant Adrien was still _Chat._ Knowing his identity didn’t change the fact that he was her ridiculous partner.

“Marinette?” A blond head poked out of the skylight. The glasses were askew on his nose; the golden hair comb had almost fallen out. “If you want me to leave, I can. You don’t need to stay out here and get soaked.”

It was a bit late for that. Even though she had ducked under the awning, the rain was blowing practically sideways. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Why had she worn her pajama tank? Not that it mattered; Adrien had seen her in it before. She could hardly embarrass herself more than she already had.

“N-no, of course not! I just thought, we were being kind of loud, and it’s late, and since you didn’t come in through the front door…”

Chat winced as he climbed out onto the balcony to stand beside her. Just a few seconds out in the rain, and his hair was already plastered to his forehead in a wet mop. The glasses were too splattered to see through; he removed them and the bee miraculous with his free hand and put them in his pocket.

As for his other hand...

“Well, at least use this. It might work a little better than your awning.”

...He popped open the umbrella. Black and slick with rain, it brought her back to a moment two years ago. Different green eyes, but the same soft gaze. 

“Of course you’d grab that one.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was the only umbrella she owned, and it had been sitting by her desk, but it still felt ironic. 

She reached for the umbrella, but Chat pulled it back at the last moment.

“Wait, it’s broken, isn’t it?” He squinted up at its underside—

Just in time for it to snap shut on his head.

A laugh burst from her like a crack of thunder. “Come on, Ad—Kitty. It’s drier over here.” 

He disentangled himself from the umbrella and followed her to the corner of the balcony, where the rain hadn’t quite snuck under the awning. 

“Why do you have this old thing anyway? Looks like a piece of junk.” He twirled the now-closed umbrella like his baton, but fumbled it under her folding chair, where it promptly exploded open. Chat scowled. “Oh, I see how it is. When _I_ want you to open, you only know how to stay shut. But when you’re out on your own you’re ready to party.”

The umbrella rolled slightly as it began to fill with rainwater. Marinette laughed as Chat continued to glare at it.

“Be nice to that umbrella. Someone very special gave it to me.” She stretched out her legs, letting her heels dangle in the puddles in the brick. Her fairy lights reflected in the water, casting the two of them in an ethereal glow.

“Oh, really? Should I be jealous?” He playfully wrapped an arm around her back. Every place he touched burned, even though she knew the gesture was just part of his jealous act.

She hummed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“...Oh.” She felt him deflate, though he infused his voice with fake confidence. “Well, good. I’m a pretty territorial cat, you know.”

Gently, she tugged on the bell at his neck until he met her eyes.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” she clarified, “because I know he’s _you.”_

Chat Noir’s— _Adrien’s—_ eyes widened. But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head with a smile.

“I should’ve known you’d figure me out. You’ve already done it once in your sleep.”

She blinked. “I did? And—and I’m right?”

She’d been sure, but it was still another thing to hear him admit it.

And it was yet _another_ thing to hear “claws in.” To see green lightning crackle over over him, unmasking Adrien’s tender face.

The electricity had barely faded before she flung her arms around him.

“Woah!” He laughed before hugging her back just as tightly. “You know, I think I _should_ be jealous. You never hugged Chat Noir like this.”

“That’s not true. I definitely hugged you tighter after we fought the Scrambler last week.”

“Huh. I guess it just doesn’t have the same effect when I’m covered in egg whites. Or maybe it’s because the suit isn’t in the way now.”

She was all too aware of that. His bare hands were warm on her back, even through her pajama shirt. Her face was tucked in the crook of his neck, where she could drink in his scent unobscured by the leather suit.

“Sniffing me again?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She flushed at being caught. Adrien her friend from school might not have called her out for it, but Adrien her partner of two years would. Well, two could play at that game.

“Oh, like you haven’t sniffed me before. Besides, I can’t help it that you smell _radiant, carefree,_ and _dreamy.”_

He looked mortified. “That commercial was over a year ago! Even _Wayhem_ forgot about that!”

“Wayhem probably didn’t watch it two hundred and fifty-five times.”

“...I can’t tell which one of us should be more embarrassed about that.”

“Probably me,” she admitted. “What was your point again?”

“Either we both get sniffing rights, or neither of us does. That’s fair.”

She laughed, nuzzling deeper into his neck. “Fine. But I probably just smell wet.”

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in, tickling the part of her hair. “Don’t worry. You smell perfect.”

Maybe it should’ve been an awkward compliment, but she still found herself giddy over it.

“Thank you. You smell like cheese.”

“Hey!” He pouted. “What happened to ‘radiant, carefree, and dreamy’?”

“She gave you a compliment, kid. What’s more radiant than cheese?” Plagg asked.

Marinette nearly screamed. She should’ve realized he was there, but he’d blended into the shadows in the wake of Adrien’s detransformation.

“Plagg!” Adrien hissed. “Go inside with Tikki. We’re having a moment.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Plagg dismissively waved a paw. “You got any cheese in there for me, Pigtails?”

“Uh—Tikki can get you some cheese-filled pastries from downstairs. Don’t let my parents see you.”

“They’ll never know I was there. Unless they notice a plate of those delicious treats is gone.” The kwami grinned and dove through the floor. 

Well, that was about all she could expect. Hopefully Tikki could keep him under control. If not, Marinette might have to fake a rat infestation.

“Sorry about him.” Adrien sighed. “He’s always like that.”

“Could’ve been worse. Imagine if you were stuck with Xuppu or Roarr as your kwami.”

He laughed. “Pretty sure my father would have grounded me for life if he saw the mess. Or he would’ve found out my identity. Probably both.”

Chat had been there the one day Marinette decided to let the monkey and tiger kwamis outside of the miracle box. She’d actually had to transform and use her Lucky Charm just to undo the damage. 

“Speaking of which… I knew it was only a matter of time, but how _did_ you learn my identity?” He asked. “If I need to be more careful…”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. I… I don’t know if I can even explain it. At first I thought it was just wishful thinking. Ever since we spent the night at Mr. Ramier’s apartment, I…”

She blushed and bit her lip. Getting caught sniffing him might have been embarrassing, but admitting this somehow felt more personal.

“What?” He asked. “Is it because I smelled the same as Chat and myself?”

“Huh? No—well, sort of? Maybe subconsciously.”

“Oh. That’s what you said while you were sleeptalking.” He shrugged.

“I guess that makes sense, since… well, I’ve been dreaming about you. _Both_ of you.” 

She took a deep breath. He was still waiting patiently, his hand softly stroking her back. If he didn’t think she was crazy yet, she guessed this wouldn’t change his mind.

“You were always the same person in my dreams. You’d switch back and forth between Adrien and Chat Noir. “Chat” would sit in front of me at school, or “Adrien” would help me bring down a scary akuma _._ Either way, it was always _you._

“And then I couldn’t help looking for similarities when I was awake. I—I started writing down all the evidence I found. The time “Chat” almost beat me at Ultimate Mecha Strike was when I started to actually believe it. But what finally convinced for sure me was your laugh.”

She laced her fingers together in her lap to keep from fidgeting. All of it sounded weirder when she said it out loud. Almost like she’d been stalking him, sticking all of their casual interactions under a microscope.

“Wow,” he breathed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m flattered that you went through all that effort, but I don’t get it. The only reason I didn’t reveal myself sooner was because I was afraid it would put more stress on you, and you were already dealing with so much. Why didn’t you just ask me who I was?”

She stared into his eyes, watching the pastel lights reflect in them. He still didn’t know. All these secrets shared, all these weights lifted, and she still hadn’t revealed the one secret she’d wanted to confess all along.

“Because…” she licked her lips, “because I didn’t want to be wrong. If you weren’t Adrien—I didn’t want to project my old crush onto you. You deserve better than that. Though I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I wasn’t projecting after all, it _is_ you and so I should. Just be able to say this.”

He blinked at her, but then his lips began to part in a slow smile.

“Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m in love with you,” she blurted before she could lose her nerve again. “First Adrien you, then Chat Noir you, then just, well, _you._ So—so jot that down.”

A startled laugh escaped him before he squeezed her tight again.

“Consider it jotted.” He kissed the top of her head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she wasn’t going to dissolve at the faintest sign of lip-on-hair contact. “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with all of you too. So you can jot _that_ down.”

It shouldn’t have undone her. Chat Noir had confessed his love to her countless times. Granted, all of those times had been before their battle with Miracle Queen, after which he’d obviously tried to move on.

But he still loved her. She wasn’t too late. 

Maybe that relief was what pushed her to grab the collar of his shirt in both hands and press her mouth to his.

Her brain screamed, but her lips slowly figured out what to do, particularly when Adrien got over his shock and kissed her back.

Adrien. Holding her in his arms. _Kissing her back._

She wasn’t sure if the sound she heard was the rain or the roaring in her ears or just her internal screaming. But it didn’t matter. For the first time, they were really, _finally_ together, no secrets or fears between them. That truth was just as sweet as the kiss.

He finally pulled back, the front of his shirt damp where he’d been pressed against her. From the wide grin on his face, he didn’t mind.

“Will I get that kind of kiss every time I tell you I love you?”

“I don’t know.” She tapped her lips. “It might be worth finding out.”

“I love you, my La—”

She cut him off with her mouth on his.

All that time waiting, every failed attempt at confessing her feelings, slipped away like the rain off the slick balcony railing.

When the sky finally cleared, she woke to them tangled together, slumped against that same railing. She had a crick in her neck, and she’d probably end up with a cold from sleeping in her wet clothes. But it still felt worth it to look up into Adrien’s blissful face. Somehow she’d woken up before him—probably because her clothes had been more uncomfortable, since his were dry where his suit had covered them.

“Are you going to give me any juicy secrets in your sleep?” She asked before kissing the side of his jaw.

His only response was to hum and hug her.

“I guess that’s a no.” She chuckled. “No fair. I shouldn’t be the only one embarrassing myself in this relationship.”

 _Relationship._ She could’ve exploded into confetti just thinking about it.

“Mmm… love you… m’lady.”

Her breath caught at his slurred voice.

“...Well I guess I can’t complain about that.”

She rested her head back on his chest, and let the dripping remnants of rain from the gutters lull her back to sleep.


End file.
